


Behind The Lens

by CM_Ink2



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Future Fic, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Teacher Stiles, Work In Progress, Writer Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CM_Ink2/pseuds/CM_Ink2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles used to date, well, they were slightly more serious than just "Dating." Now, Derek's writing career has slowed down significantly, he has returned to Beacon Hills. Stiles teaches film/documentary production at the local college. When Stiles approaches Derek one day with a project, Derek sees it as an olive branch and a chance to get closer to him again. Will Stiles ever forgive Derek for their messed up past? A crack in a lens is not easy to ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind The Lens

**Author's Note:**

> First Teen Wolf!fic, don't even know if I tagged it right. Please be nice, maybe more chapters to follow, if y'all like it?

Stiles snaps his fingers in the face of the man sitting in front of him, how ridiculous is this guy?

“Derek! Could you please, for like two seconds, listen to me?”

At least now Derek is looking at him, rather than wearing his ridiculous blank expression. Stiles knows there is a brain in there somewhere.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Playing it cool, Derek leans back in his chair, smirking a little as he does so.

“You are insufferable, I don’t even know why I thought this was a good idea.” Stiles stands, ready to leave, storm out, get that dramatic, sweeping exit he has always dreamed of.

But no, Derek has to suddenly look remorseful, but on his big puppy dog eyes and look at Stiles like he would break down if he left him alone in the cafe.

“I’m sorry, don’t go. I was listening!” With a huff, Stiles sits down and crosses his arms across his chest like a teenager on a sitcom. “I was, I swear. You want my help with this film thing?”

The pause allows for Stiles to stare Derek down, assessing him with his own version of judgemental eyebrows.

The tension remains until Stiles breaks the eye contact, he slouches back into his chair and sighs.

“Yeah, that was my plan. I need to show my second years the magic of the documentary, so maybe they won’t leave me for the drama section.” His sarcasm anything but subtle. Subtlety was never Stiles' strong point. “I swear to God, last year I lost my whole class to that traitor, Deaton. Everyone wants to be the next James Cameron, nobody wants to be an Attenborough!”

Derek waits out the rant, he has heard it all before. Although, the last time he heard this particular rant, it was part of their daily routine. As they fell into bed at night, Stiles curled into Derek’s side and he would let all of his anger out. Derek missed the intimacy of those moments. He could feel the familiar sadness wash over him as he reminisced.

“Of course I’ll help, what do you need from me? Scripts?” Derek coughed, pulling himself out of his reverie.

Stiles perked up, sitting on the edge of his seat. Smirking. That was never a good sign.

“Not exactly, although, I could use your pretty words.”

“What is it then?”

“I need your face.”

 

 

 

So, the deal was, Derek would star in this documentary about Beacon Hills' most successful under 30’s. He would co-write it too. He would spend a lot of time with Stiles; was this really a good idea?

Derek observed his apartment from his spot on the couch. Where it had once felt homely and lived in, it now felt bare and cold. Where Stiles pictures used to hang on the walls, the brick was exposed and rough. The shelves sitting next to the t.v. looked empty and depressed. Although it had been years, Derek still wasn’t over the mess he had made with his relationship with Stiles. It still hurt like a bitch when he woke up alone.

He would just have to deal with seeing Stiles everyday, being reminded of everything he had done and forced to live with the fact that he might never ever get his Stiles back. He downed his beer and hoisted himself up off the Sofa, as he opened the fridge to grab another beer - or two - he was hit with an idea. Maybe being around Stiles all the time was not such a bad idea after all. Derek could show him how different he was, how much he had improved from the man he was five years ago. Yes. This could work, Derek would make Stiles fall for him again, and this time he would not screw it up.

As he settled back into his corner of the couch, he smiled to himself. The next few weeks would certainly prove to be very interesting.

 

 

 

“Scott, you have to tell him I’ve been fired and I moved to L.A. to pursue my dream of becoming a call girl.” Stiles' grip on the phone tightened. “I one hundred percent cannot do this.”

Stiles waited for the reply but was met with some rustling and crunching.

“Now is not the time for Doritos my friend!”

Some more rustling, then a cough, then a door slamming and finally a reply.

“You are an idiot.”

“Oh wow, thanks for the support.”

“All I’m saying here buddy is that you brought this all on yourself, if you could have just let Derek go off and be his moody little self, you could have moved on by now. Instead you guys dragged it out, made it hurt more. Now you are back to square one, and I get to deal with the freak outs.”

Silence.

“Harsh dude.” Stiles said softly.

“I felt like you needed the tough love.”

“You were right. What do I do now though? I can’t tell him to piss off, can I?”

“You have to put your big boy pants on and lay everything out in the open. Do it, you’ll feel better.”

“Ugh, grown-ups.” Stiles sighed, he sounded like a petulant teenager. “I have to go figure this out, thanks for the almost advice.”

“You’re welcome buddy. Good luck, see you Saturday.”

Stiles mumbled about the useless excuse for a best friend he had as he made himself a beautiful mug of tea. Tea always helped. He knew Scott was right, but he did not want to admit it for a number of reasons. One, that would mean admitting Scott was smarter than him. Two, he really, really, really, really did not want to tell Derek how he felt. Being and adult was hard.

With his tea in hand, Stiles made his way to his bedroom. Books everywhere, clothes occupying one corner of the room and black and white photographs of everyone he loves on every single wall of his room. Except for that one notable space, the one above his bed. No, Stiles was not going to think about that space right now, that would only make matter worse.

Once his mug was safe and secure on his bedside table, he let his frustration take hold of him, and collapsed on his bed. Face first. Screaming into a pillow.

Why was this his life. Oh God, he really needed to get his shit together.

The events of his day whirled around his mind as he tried to figure out a suitable plan. He kicked his sneakers off and curled up in the middle of the bed. After several minutes of wallowing in self-pity, he had it. The perfect way to deal with a situation he did not want to think about, let alone handle.

Stile would follow the example of every kick ass woman in the movies ever. He would be okay. Or at least he would pretend to be. He would boast of his achievements in front of Derek, he would not reminisce and he would not let his weaknesses show. Stiles would be fine, and Derek would not suspect a thing.

Feeling infinitely happier now that he had a plan, he hunkered down into his pillows and duvet to watch some Friends re-runs. A true place of bliss. He would ignore any thoughts about how a certain relationship - Ross and Rachel - would reflect his own relationship with Mr. Tall, Dark and Growl-y.


End file.
